


What They Need

by Star_Nymph



Series: To The Moon and Back [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Asperger Inquisitor, Asperger Syndrome, F/M, Fluff, Nerds Being Fucking Adorable, Stimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-07 00:52:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11047887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_Nymph/pseuds/Star_Nymph
Summary: Cullen and Eurydice’s nightly rituals.





	What They Need

**Author's Note:**

> SHRUGS
> 
> I just really really wanna talk about the things Cullen and Eurydice do to help their mental health, okay? Okay.

Eurydice’s fingers weave the leather into a flawless braid and Cullen can’t help but wonder where she gets the patience for such a thing. His own clumsy hands ache at the thought of carefully winding and unwinding over and over again, mindful not to pull too hard less the thin fabric snap in two and ruin the project. It would drive him mad not to get it right the first time, but she does it without blinking an eye or even breathing.

It’s something she needs to do, he knows.

The dim glow of the candle barely gives them enough light to work in his loft--he in the corner with polish and rag, his every piece of his armor set neatly in a row in front of him, aligned for the same precise inspection the men get routinely everyday--she crossed legged in front of the bed, her box of leather, stone, beads, and knives open as she hunches over her newest bracelet. Neither of them spared a word or much of any other noise, less it be the random clunk of steel place on wood or a rock falling from a hand. 

It was unnecessary; the two of them suffered through distraction every day and every dream--one haunted by memories of blood soaked demons, the other barraged by mortals with envious hands--let them have a moment of quiet clarity to tire them out.

It was agreed, long ago, that the two of them shared certain habits. Cullen needed order, perfection, to rub his neck, to cross his arms, to look at a line of things and be able to study them inch by inch until he knew they were right. Eurydice needed stillness, answers, to knot her hands in her hair, to run her fingers over the coin on the chain around her neck, to create something with her hands and know it was real. It was never questioned, maybe acknowledged once and then left to each be natural, because there was nothing wrong with what they both needed to do to settled down.

Cullen holds one of spaulders up to where the light shined the brightest and revolved it twice, eyeing curve and indent for new smudges. It’s near impossible these days for him to get the sort of reflection he deemed acceptable--his armor’s luster wore with the age and battle, the new damage taking the glint out of it day by day. He tsks, irritated, at it when he can only vaguely see the yellow of his hair reflecting in it, then brings it close to his nose to polish it again. 

He hates the way the silver never catches in the light any more. It makes him think of other things that don’t catch as strong or glow as bright. It makes his bones feel brittle and his burst. He pours more polish into the rag and cusses at the wounded steel.

He’s put a good deal of elbow grease into scrubbing the damned thing glowing when he hears a creak behind him. He pauses, looking at his lover out the corner of his eye. Eurydice thinks he can’t see her looking at him over his shoulder, her fingers fidgeting over the bracelet in her hand.

He moves his head around to face her and she turns away, staring down at her lap.

 _Right._ He gets it.

Sighing, Cullen bends down and places the spaulder next to its pair, mindful to nudge it identical to the other. He cracks his strained hands, once, then twice, pulling at each finger as he goes to the elf and sits down beside her. The only indication she makes that she knows he’s there is the twitch of her ears, both move slightly up. 

She’s holding the leather plain bracelet between her fingers, playing with the loose ends--Cullen tries to suppress his smile when he sees it.

“Who is that for, love?” He already knows the answer, but it’s better to ask with her. She’s already made several for everyone in the inner circle--Dorian has two, Sera has six, Bull has a dozen for every day of the week, and so on. The other day he had thought she was making a new bunch for the children at the refugee camp, but it seems to must have stopped--those were, after all, lined with glittering stones. 

This was simple, dark brown, a braid with one gold stone at the edge. The same as the two bracelets currently on his left arm, and the one hanging from his right that had gone slightly weak from when he would absent mindlessly play with it during his less composed moments. 

Eurydice stills her fingers, “Ah, you, vhenan.” She holds it higher up for him to see, her flickering between it and the bracelets he was already wearing. “I made it. Yours is wearing. I see it. It’s wearing and it will break.” 

She sits up and crawls closer to him, her finger curling around the bracelet on his right wrist and tugging at it. Cullen leaned his head on his bed, taking note of her eyebrows arched ever so slightly, gracing her stoic expression with some rare frustration. He snickered; it was cute.

“Do you think it will break?” She asked, tugging it again.

“I doubt it, but you have a better eye for this than I.”

It’s not an answer Eurydice likes. She sits back on her heels, twirling the bracelet in her hand. It’s embarrassment, he knows, that’s stopping her from putting it on him. Last month, some one made comment on how many of the bracelets he had on--saying it was a tacky amount--and Eurydice seemed to take it to heart. She hadn’t taken his arm and given him a new one since--instead choosing to wrap the one she had finished around of his swords. It was silly but he forgets how some of the smallest things can get under her skin.

Eurydice pushes her hand through her hair and stares past him at the candle on the nightstand. “It will break.” She says and then adds, “but if you think it will last.”

She hesitates holding it out to him. Cullen doesn’t hesitate in holding out his arm and letting her tie it next to the old bracelet. When he’s done, he holds his hand up the light, watching the single gold stone reflect the fire of the candle.

It’s perfect.

He looks down and sees Eurydice staring at his mouth, a shy smile, bursting with adoration, on her face.

It’s absolutely perfect.


End file.
